You Said You'd Grow Old With Me
by ImagineAWord
Summary: Based on the beautiful song - 'You Said You'd Grow Old With Me' by Michael Shulte. Sometimes, not even the most sincerest promises can be kept...


Warning

Contains: alcoholism, Major Character death and Suicide.

Disclaimer

The characters below do not belong to me but to the BBC. This is but a work of fanfiction that an emotional fangirl created. Any rights reserved to the BBC and Michael Shulte.

A/N

Please excuse mistakes and/or terrible writing (I'm still learning) and please accept my apologies for this. It popped into my head and this song fits them so perfectly in the cannon-era... I've not written for a fanfiction since the days I wrote headcannons for Harry Potter back in the day ha so I hope I've done ok.

**I****nspired by the beautiful song -**

**"You Said You'd Grow Old With Me" by Michael Schulte**

The bottle was an almost anchor. It's cool, hard surface a reminder of the real world. The empty world. But even the numbing buzz of the alcohol never helped the memories from being every bit as painful as before. No, the only relief the alcohol (cheap booze from the nearest service station) gave was the ever-present inkling that each drop was closer to the everlasting peace that was sourly needed….

A shaky draw of breath and a swig of the bottle. Eyes squeezed shut and head bombarded with his smile; his bright, perfect smile. Shining blonde hair and eyes that will forever be a haunting memory. Yes the memories stung.. they were like blows to the heart each and every time but the worst part was knowing that no matter how much he tried, Merlin could never remember that exact colour of blue that were Arthur Pendragon's eyes. The very eyes that would never greet him in the morning over steaming coffee or that would kiss him at lunch over bagels after getting cream cheese everywhere… The very eyes that he would never see again…

Merlin gulped mouthful after mouthful of the foul-tasting liqueur. Time passed slowly…god did it pass so slow. The clock that hung on the wall ticked like an ominous life bomb. One that never went off.

It's been a week. A week of cheap liqueur, puddles of tears, heart shattering screams and plagued memories.

Standing on shaky, skinnier than usual legs, Merlin stumbled to the door; bottle in hand. The cold February air hit him hard making the distraught man choke and splutter as he gripped the metal fencing and dragged his feet to the pavement. He had what he needed and only one destination.

…_A hot July night laying in the park, stars twinkling above, Arthur turned his head towards his beloved Merlin; taking his hand and interlacing their fingers._

"_You know Merlin. I'm quite fond of you"_

_Merlin looked over and snorted lightly._

"_I'd like to think so, you clotpole" _

_Then they kissed. Caring of nothing but each other in that moment.._

A gush of air almost sending the bottle flying. Weight near his chest heavy. It was quite. Only the occasional stray car driving past. Another swig, another memory.

…_The coffin lowered into the ground. Arthur clutched the crying raven haired boy to his chest. The very same one who had just lost his father. It didn't matter that Merlin was staining Arthur's shirt. It didn't matter that there were lots of people around. All that mattered was that Arthur tell Merlin these words:_

"_I promise, I'll grow old with you Merlin"_

_There was no need for 'I love you' there was no need for 'I'm sorry' because in that sentence Merlin knew he could always rely on his blond knight..._

He'd arrived. The smooth marble surface gleamed in the moonlight. Merlin fell to his knees and let go of the empty bottle, ignoring it as it rolled away. Pale, bony fingers grasped the grave stone and a cry broke from Merlin's throat…

"You said you'd grow old with me"

It was an accusation; a broken accusation towards the marble… He carefully traced the elegant scrawl of 'Arthur' before asking in a broken whisper, "why, Arthur? Why'd you leave me here behind?"

Merlin's fist connected with the black marble. A crunch echoed through out the silent air and yet the pain that shot through his broken knuckles was weak compared the pain of not having Arthur.

"I'm sorry…" He barely whispered. Reaching into the pocket of Arthur's favourite red hoodie that Merlin hadn't stopped wearing all week, his fingers grazed the sleek, smooth surface. Retracting it and bringing it to his head, Merlin choked out, "I didn't get to say goodbye, Arthur…but now I can say -" a shaky inhaled breathe, "- now, well now I can say hello."

Bang.


End file.
